Σχήματα άμορφα
γλιστρούν στη σιωπή,
σκέψεις που γεννήθηκαν
μόνο για να σβήσουν.

Ορίζοντας θολός,
γραμμές που δεν αγγίζονται,
μια ανάσα πριν το τίποτα,
μια σπίθα πριν το ποτέ.

Ο χρόνος ξεδιπλώνεται
σαν χάρτης χωρίς σύνορα,
τα βήματα αφήνουν
ίχνη που ο άνεμος αρνείται.

Και όμως—
μες στο βάθος του κενού,
κάτι πάλλεται
σαν απόηχος ύπαρξης.

It took me seven years
to realise
the words in my mind
were too deep for
my mouth to dig up
I thought it was easier
to open my skin
and let the truth
pour down my arms

It took me seven years
to realise
nobody should be allowed
to touch parts
of your home
or hold pieces  
of your heart
that you don't yet understand

It took me seven years
to realise
I will wear these scars
forever
I'll carry them
through every smile
every kiss
every concerned gaze
I'll carry them
to my grave

It took me seven years
to realise
the pain carved
into the walls
of my castle
etchings of
attempting to disappear
are not a story of weakness
but a tale of
how I survived